


sachertote

by hitoshi (dami_an)



Series: dessert-holics [2]
Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gangsters, Hand Jobs, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24985768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dami_an/pseuds/hitoshi
Summary: "I'll be your slave forever?""That was included in our deal when we started dating.""Oh, right—wait… how did that happen—"Seungyoon cuts him off. "The point is, no."
Relationships: Kang Seungyoon/Song Minho | Mino
Series: dessert-holics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808506
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	sachertote

**Author's Note:**

> idk tf i wrote

Being the youngest boss in history who joins the Oval Table has its pros and cons. Pros; respected by many underground leaders. Cons; jealousy often rears its ugly head. Most of the time, the cons outweigh the pros.

For this case, Kang Seungyoon usually resorts to violence. A quick and easy solution even though it often ends up messy. The upside of this solution; getting a higher reputation among the leaders that he's able to terminate any threats.

The downside, though; Song Minho.

Song Minho; his personal bodyguard, his love, and yes, he's his Demon.

Demon—it's a name that people fear. Often lurked in the shadows for blood and soul. Spared no mercy for his prey. His aura spelt death and danger. No survivors once he locked the target.

Seungyoon still remembers how he found Song Minho, the Demon. 

It was a cold day. A dome of grey clouds marched in the skies. A black cat rubbed its whiskers on that long leg. Huddled next to a smelly bin in an alley, Minho looked worn out after slashing through about ten men. Covered in enemies' blood. A cold gaze, so sharp it pierced through his soul.

Seungyoon crouched down in front of him. Seunghoon-hyung and Jinwoo-hyung were on guard, pistols trained on him. Seungyoon cracked a smile and said;

"I will pay you twice my bounty price if you kill someone for me."

"I have no need for money."

"What do you need, then?"

"A cig," Minho rolled his eyes to the dark skies. A raindrop landed on his cheek. "And an umbrella."

A petty demand. Seungyoon offered, "I'll give you a room. Complete with breakfast service."

Minho agreed. And never left.

Frankly, it never crossed Seungyoon's mind that Minho would be hired as his personal bodyguard. Never mind fucking him. Minho has seen and accepted his vulnerable side, which remains hidden from prying eyes, and Seungyoon has learned to understand this wild side of Minho; Demon.

More often than not, this side remains tucked inside of Minho, asleep in the wake of halcyon days. Hidden behind those handsome smiles. However, there are times where it stirs from its slumber—often when Seungyoon is in grave danger.

"—You stole everything from me!!!"

The furious scream brings Seungyoon back to the present. He blinks and finds a middle-aged man on his knees, tied down in front of him. Full of beard, a round tummy that Seungyoon can see the buttons are strained in the middle. Crow-feet wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. Greyish hair and double chin.

Ah, right. Kim Joonho. A former, glorious boss from the Upper Street. Seungyoon recalls the way he ignited the small flame within the group, which then led to the ultimate downfall.

Around them are dead bodies scattered on the library floor, mostly belonged to Kim Joon-ho's pathetic group. Seunghoon watches the windows for snipers while Jinwoo guards the lone door.

He snorts. "Your regime was falling anyway. I merely sped up the process."

"You brought that bitch in—" Kim Joonho hisses.

"Not my fault that you didn't check her background thoroughly," Seungyoon tilts his head to the side, smirking. Bringing in Eunji into his shitty group to destroy everything from the inside was a brilliant idea. The Chinese idiom; 红颜祸水 (hóngyán huòshuǐ) 'dangerous beauties who will incur misfortunes', was proven right.

"One day," Kim Joonho whispers, glowering, "One day I'll make sure you suffer—"

Two loud gunshots echo in the air. So loud and startling that it snaps Seungyoon's head around. On high alarm. It was a riffle, from downstairs.

Minho.

One, no, two, no, four gunshots, followed by a loud crash. Jinwoo prompts, alerted, "Seungyoon. Minho."

A sigh escapes Seungyoon. He understands Jinwoo's worries, but, "He'll be okay."

"He'll be okay, but not the rest of us," Seunghoon reminds him.

Right... the last time Seungyoon left him, Minho had a crazed look in his eyes. Ready to slash anyone in his path. Frustrated by the chasing game Kim Joonho had started lasting over a month. Angered by the fact that someone dared to harm Seungyoon.

It flattered Seungyoon and worried him at the same time.

"Yeah, fine," Seungyoon sighs, "Okay, I'll go and get him."

"How about him?" Jinwoo jerks his chin at Kim Joonho.

Seungyoon spins on his heel, uncaring. "Kill him. And erase his entire family."

"Don't you touch my family—"

"Even the babies," Seungyoon orders one last time. Then leaves.

For a person who was forced to live in fear, Kim Joonho has a luxurious mansion. Seungyoon snorts. He should've asked Eunji to not leave any wealth behind. Not even a penny.

Upon walking down the spiral staircase, Seungyoon sees a trail of dead bodies on the marble floor. Blood pools everywhere; on the carpet, on the steps, even on the walls. 

He follows the trail, which then leads him to the kitchen.

On movies, kitchens are always portrayed as clean and spacious. They would be equipped with modern kitchen tops, an island filled with fresh vegetables and snacks, and a tall fridge for fresh groceries.

Now imagine them replaced by dismembered body parts; hands under the stools, an eyeball in a glass, spilt intestines in the sink, and someone's head on the plate. 

It's no longer a kitchen. It's a butcher's. And on a stool sits Minho, among the lifeless bodies. Soaked in the blood; his white undershirt, his hair, his hands, even his face.

Ah...

"Minho—"

A knife whizzes past Seungyoon's fast, so close it nicks his cheek before it stabs into the wall behind him. Seungyoon remains still. Blood drips down his face.

Minho doesn't remove his glare, no remorse on his face either. Seungyoon heaves a sigh.

"Are you done here?"

No response.

"Minho." Seungyoon approaches him in a few strides. Stops just a foot space in front of Minho. Then, cautiously, reaches for him, and touches some short strands of Minho's bloody hair.

Blood paints Seungyoon's pinkish fingers dirty. Minho doesn't budge.

"Let's go home," Seungyoon says with a sigh. His fingers slide down Minho's chest to the hand, linking their dirty fingers together. "I'm all dirty and sweaty. I need a bath. Preferably, with you."

No verbal response from Minho. Instead, he rubs his bloody finger on Seungyoon's small cut. Presses his thumb until Seungyoon grimaces in pain. 

"You did this to me," Seungyoon pouts.

Silence. Then, "Mine," Minho whispers when Seungyoon thinks talking is an impossible task for him. The piercing eyes scream possessiveness. The nail digging into his wound hints at danger. And that bloody print on his pale skin means nothing but ownership.

And really, that turns Seungyoon on.

Feeling little playful, Seungyoon smirks, "Y'know, that old fuck planned to make me his bitch."

Minho's burning gaze snaps back at him.

...Great. That urge to see Minho going crazy boils so hot in his chest that Seungyoon feels giddy. Like a kid. "He wanted to put a leash on me. Lock me in his dungeon. Make me his personal cock sleeve. Feed me with his cum. Ready to be fucked whenever—"

A sudden grip on his chin takes Seungyoon by surprise, and he's met with a furious glare from Minho. His heart thunders louder in his chest, wide-eyed, terrified but fuck, the promise of getting punishment only exhilarates him further. Shit, fucking Minho makes him sick in the head.

"You. Are. Mine," Minho hisses.

Seungyoon slips Minho's thumb into his mouth. And bites. "Yours."

No words needed as Minho captures his lips in a searing kiss. Minho's tight grip on the nape of Seungyoon's neck has him gasping into Minho's mouth, and Seungyoon claws at Minho's front shirt to anchor himself.

The world suddenly spirals around. Seungyoon finds himself cornered against the kitchen island, with Minho's crotch grinding against his. His head lols to the side, giving Minho access to his racing pulse. Minho's fingers dig into Seungyoon's asscheeks, and yeah, he thinks, alright, okay.

There's no finesse in this debauchery. Not when Minho's fingers are coated in blood, innocent or not. Not when lifeless eyes are staring at them. 

Fuck, Seungyoon moans, fisting Minho's hair as Minho sucks there, fuck, this is wrong but feels very good. This is Minho's world; blood, dead bodies, dismembered parts, spilling intestines, crushed skulls, even that lone eye over there, by the milk. Those dead bodies are Minho's trophies, piling up high like Minho's personal throne, and getting fucked here seems like a great idea—

Seunghoon would douse his brain in bleach if he knew Seungyoon's twisted thoughts.

"Minho," Seungyoon moans against Minho's ear shell. Hotly. Wantonly. "Want you."

Without warning, Minho grabs him by the throat and pins him down on the kitchen island. Seungyoon gasps, in pain as the countertop hits his back. His hands immediately clutch at Minho's shoulders, defensive. Before he can utter a word, Minho takes off Seungyoon's belt.

Oh. Okay.

Seungyoon licks his lips. The fire in his lower gut burns hotter and hotter. His stomach shudders under Minho's harsh touches. Yep, they can do this here. Anything to dial down that demon residing inside Minho. Also, it's fucking hot.

Minho frees his half-hard cock in record time. Curls his calloused fingers around it. Seungyoon worries at his bottom lip, flinching at the sudden pressure around his cock.

Tight and firm. As if Minho is hinting at his ownership of his cock.

(In a way, yes. No one can turn him on so much like Minho does, regardless of how disgusting it is. Of how twisted it is. Fucking hell, Minho brings out the worst of him.)

Drying blood is proven not the best lubrication, and Seungyoon grits his teeth, wincing at the rough friction on his cock. His left leg raises in response to the pain, but Minho holds it down. His hands flail around helplessly and knock some dismembered parts off the island. 

An eye rolls back to his cheek after it bounced off a glass. The pupil is grey, lifeless, the one that saw Minho's cruelty. Seungyoon turns back to Minho.

"Minho—" Seungyoon furrows his brows, fingers digging into Minho's shoulder. "—Hurts—"

Instead of slowing down, Minho speeds up his hand. "Mine."

"Minho—"

"Mine."

So, pleasure and pain are both tied to the interacting dopamine and opioid systems in the brain. Which it explains why his cock is getting harder under Minho's harsh friction, and fuck you, brain, Seungyoon curses, this is not the time to analyze shit.

Not when arousal zings up his spine like electricity.

"Minho—"

A sudden grip on his throat has Seungyoon snapping his eyes wide, and he grabs the wrist. Minho's thumb presses just right to induce faux asphyxiation, not too tight it cuts off his oxygen completely. But enough to heightens his arousal, enough to choke on his moans, and fuck, fuck, fuck, in Minho's eyes, he is met with a smirk instead of a terrified expression.

Like he's fucking enjoying this shit. This dangerous kink. This murderous side of Minho.

"Min—"

"Mine," Minho growls.

The tight grip, the flick of his wrist, even the piercing gaze, so fucking possessive; they push Seungyoon over the edge, and he comes in Minho's fist with a choked moan. 

The hold around his throat loosens then, and yet Minho keeps his hand moving up and down Seungyoon's cock, moving until Seungyoon keens. Until Seungyoon's knee digs into Minho's side, oversensitive.

When Minho releases him, Seungyoon lets out a heavy sigh, sated. He can see his limp cock tainted in crimson now. Minho's hand on his throat trails south, leaving a warm sensation. Pleasure skitters under his skin. His eyes slowly flutter closed, tired.

The hand stops at his thigh. Seungyoon cracks an eye open, only to see a hint of desire in Minho's dark eyes. Hunger. That glimpse of Demon in them.

Oh, well.

With a smile, Seungyoon reaches out to his beloved. Runs his thumb down his loved one's cheek. And watches blood smeared across the skin.

The blood that belonged to the fallen ones, hopeless souls against his Demon. Beautiful, Seungyoon thinks.

"Wreck me well, love."

  
  


...

  
  


He does just that. 

  
  


...

  
  


"So," Minho breezes into the bedroom, "Our anniversary is next week."

In bed and donned in a loose sweater, Seungyoon looks up from the documents. It's getting colder these days. Outside, trees are dropping leaves. The daylight starts growing shorter. Families huddle together at home for warmth.

"And?" Seungyoon continues going through the report in his hands. Unperturbed when the bed dips under Minho's weight.

"Are we going to celebrate?" Minho drapes his body over Seungyoon's thigh, arms around Seungyoon's waist. He buries his face in Seungyoon's side.

"I've booked a restaurant for us." Seungyoon doesn't budge, getting used to Minho being all clingy. The final figures don't add up, Seungyoon realizes.

Huh. More shit to deal with, Seungyoon huffs. He will ask Seunghoon-hyung to fix this for him.

"Just dinner?" Minho sulks. For an assassin, those pouting lips look good on him. Amusing, really.

"Probably. Why?"

"I want something special for our anniversary."

Finally, Seungyoon meets Minho's eyes. "Like what."

"Maybe, uhm." Minho removes his gaze timidly. Seungyoon wants to snort at that, recalling the way Minho sliced a throat last week. That Minho and this Minho is way too contradicting. Jarring, even.

"Maybe?" Seungyoon raises a brow.

"Well, Seunghoon-hyung showed me a picture—"

Cue an eye-roll. Seungyoon can sense where this is heading. "Hadn't I warned you about Seunghoon-hyung as well?"

"Yes, you had, but—" Minho panics, "But, hear me out—okay, he put me in his ledger, but that's another story. Hear me out, Seungyoon—"

Seungyoon pinches the spot between his brows. "You're going to end up being his slave forever."

"Stockings," Minho says suddenly.

A pause. Huh. Seungyoon stares at Minho's nervous grin. Then he parrots, "Stockings."

"Yes, stockings. Close-fitting, variously elastic garments covering the leg from the foot up to the knee or possibly part or all of the thigh," Minho explains.

"I know that. What of them?"

"Well, Seunghoon-hyung showed me this beautiful picture—a lady wearing these black, silky stockings, Vogue magazine, I think, and I just thought," Minho pauses, just to heave a sigh. "I thought you would look beautiful in them too."

Oh. 

_Oh_.

"Allow me to get this straight." Seungyoon puts the documents aside on the bedside table. "On our anniversary, you... want me to wear stockings. Long, silky stockings."

Minho opens his mouth. Closes it shut. Then, "Yes. Please," and he adds as an afterthought.

Seungyoon levels him with a look. Then, "No."

Minho looks quite crestfallen at that but quickly masks it. Or tries to because Seungyoon still can catch traces of disappointment in those eyes. "I'll buy them for you?"

"No."

"I'll get the finest ones for you?"

"No."

"I'll be your slave forever?"

"That was included in our deal when we started dating."

"Oh, right—wait… how did that happen—"

Seungyoon cuts him off. "The point is, no."

Minho frowns, sitting on his knees, hands on his lap. Like a kid getting denied his cookies. "Why."

"Because that's supposed to be the plan for today," Seungyoon smirks, pulling the blanket away, just to reveal the lower part of his body covered in nothing but a pair of black stockings.

A gasp escapes Minho. "...no way."

"Yes, my love."

The stockings cover up just above his knees since he had difficulties finding the suitable length for his long legs. The material stretches snugly around his flesh. As if it could be ripped with a flick of a finger. Nothing too special because Seungyoon wanted to test the waters.

And damn does it work if Minho's face is any indication. The hunger in his eyes. Even reverence like it's the most beautiful sight he's seen in his life.

Stupid butterflies in his gut.

"You like them?" Slyly, Seungyoon rests his clothed foot on Minho's knee. Giving Minho the slightest glimpse of his cock hidden underneath his loose sweater.

The reply isn't immediate. As though Minho was so deep in trance that it took him a moment to break out of it. And when the answer is given, it's with an affectionate gesture.

The gesture, Minho cradling Seungyoon's ankle in his hands, then raising it up to his lips, with his eyes on him. Another kiss. And another kiss. More and more kisses climb up Seungyoon's leg like it's an act of worshipping, with that piercing gaze, determined and sharp, and Seungyoon's breath catches in his throat, and—

—demon—

The kisses end on his knee, replaced by digging nails on the outside of his thighs, coaxing them into falling open, open, open and open, like a blossoming flower, sweet and beautiful, ready to be plucked by dirty hands—

A sigh leaves his lips.


End file.
